


Silver and Crimson

by Brittany_Hamato



Category: TMNT (2003)
Genre: Colors, Leatherhead tries to die, M/M, Masterful art, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, beginning of the relationship, references to painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brittany_Hamato/pseuds/Brittany_Hamato
Summary: Leatherhead tries to take his life. Donnie finds him just before it is too late. When Leatherhead awakes, he tries to push away the turtle, it doesn't work.Leatherhead realizes that maybe, just maybe, he isn't ready to die just yet. That he may have a certain turtle to live for...





	Silver and Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna be free -- Left arm 
> 
> Can't handle the pain -- right arm
> 
> Black as Night -- Left thigh, calf
> 
> Fuckin' perfect -- right thigh, calf 
> 
> Can't fight / won't fight -- lower / mid stomach

He took a deep breath as he put the blade back in its place on the floor. It didn’t hurt, not really. He had pushed enough morphine into his system. He barely felt anything.

 

He looked at his masterpiece. It was everything it was supposed it be. Everything it could be. He watched as blood poured from the words carved into his forearms and legs and stomach.

 

_I just wanna be free._

 

He took another deep breath. He leaned against the stone wall and quietly watched as blood poured from his cuts.

 

_Can’t handle the pain_

 

He didn’t want to die, per say just couldn’t be here anymore. He couldn’t take the pain of living everyday life anymore.

 

He rests his head back against the stone wall. He took a deep breath, waiting for it all to slowly end. It should all fade away into nothing.

 

_Black as night_

 

“Leatherhead!” A voice pierced through his haze. Hands gripped his arms and cloth pressed against his wounds.

 

He couldn’t see, the morphine was putting him to sleep. He felt the body pressing against his as they desperately tried to stop the bleeding. Leatherhead could hear the words falling meaninglessly from the turtle’s mouth. He had no words of his own except the phrases carved into his flesh.

 

_Won’t fight_

 

_Can’t fight_

 

_Fuckin perfect_

 

His head rolled back once more, and the red paint of his masterpiece was the last thing he saw before black covered his eyes.

 

... ... ...

  


He groaned as he woke slowly. Pain radiated through his system and all he could register was the cold that embraced his body.

 

“Leatherhead?” He heard Donnie’s voice above him. He opened his swollen eyes and saw the purple mask of the turtle standing next to him.

 

“Hey, How ya feeling?” Donnie asked and pushed the damp cloth to his forehead. Leatherhead groaned and felt the sheets pull against his cuts. A sudden realization hit him like a freight train...

 

He was alive.

 

Donnie had spared his life.

 

“How did you know where I was?” Leatherhead asked, his mind swinging in a pool of hazed fog and mind-numbing ice water. “I didn’t. I came by, hoping to use your lab, and I saw your note.” Donnie held up the small piece of folded gold-and-sliver paper.

 

Leatherhead wrote that note three times; third time’s the charm, he would have chuckled at the thought. “I was hoping someone would find it after I was gone,” Leatherhead said bitterly, and Donnie was taken aback by the attitude. Did he want to die?

 

Donnie put a hand on Leatherhead’s shaking form. His body has been trembling since Donnie got him back to his home. Leatherhead was suffering blood loss, and his cold-blooded body couldn’t warm itself.

 

Donnie plugged in the electric blanket he had retrieved from the infirmary. He turned on the cover on, and Leatherhead hummed his gratitude, though he said nothing. “I’m glad I found you before you were gone,” Donnie told him, and he grunted. Leatherhead wanted nothing to do with the turtle.

 

He sat up, desperately wanting to curl up under the warm blanket. Pushing it off of him, he swung his legs clumsily over the side of the bed. His limbs felt as heavy as black lead.

 

He saw the bandages that covered his arms from wrist to elbow, covered stomach completely, and legs from knee to ankle. He couldn’t dare see anyone before the light green scars were all that’s left of proof that he tried to end his life.

 

No, proof he tried to escape the white pain and insanity.

 

“Leatherhead?” The purple-clad turtle gently rubbed his shoulder. “Leatherhead, you need to lay back, rest.” Donnie put gentle pressure on the front of the gator’s trembling shoulder. Donnie knew he had to keep the gator warm; his skin was cold to the touch.

 

“Leatherhead, please...” Donnie begged when the gator didn’t say anything and didn’t move. Donnie was worried the gator would try to up and leave. If Leatherhead moved too quickly, it was almost a guarantee he would pass out. He lost far too much blood and was still trembling.

 

Finally, Leatherhead took a deep breath and moved slowly back into the bed. Donnie helped him get back under the heated blanket.

 

“It’s okay; you’ll get over this,” Donnie said, he was trying to be a comfort. Leatherhead just scoffed, “Get out.” Donnie was taken aback by the command.  “What?” Donnie didn’t hear what he knows he had heard. “I said ‘get out.’ I don’t want you here.” Leatherhead’s voice dripped with poison. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave. Just please get some real rest.” Donnie watched as the gator rolled away from him onto his side and huffed again.

 

Donnie did as he said he would, he left the room. He gathered the discarded duffel bag he had bought but never used. He moved to get his bo staff that leaned against the kitchen counter. Donnie stopped, unable to shake a nasty feeling from his stomach.

 

He put the bag by the door and set his bo staff next to it. He knew how Leatherhead lived, alone and with the bare minimum. No one was there to care for the gator.

 

Donnie smiled as he rummaged through the cabinets and fridge. He pulled out chocolates, a large jar of suckers, crackers, and peanut butter out of the cabinet. The turtle laughed, LH had a sweet tooth, that’s for sure. He opened the fridge and pulled out cheese (molded), ham (also molded), and a bag of carrots (not molded).

 

“Leatherhead doesn’t even like carrots,” Donnie mumbled as he threw the ham away. He hesitated with the cheese, knowing there are scientific projects in medicine involving cheese mold. Don left it in the fridge, but he would make sure to ask. He pulled out the carrots and put them on the counter.

 

The only thing he had to make a decent lunch for the gator is carrots, peanut butter, and stale crackers. Donnie huffed, he supposed he could get ingredients for something.

 

He hated to leave while Leatherhead was asleep, but he wanted something for the gator. He pulled a napkin off the counter and a sharpie out of the drawer.

 

He wrote a note telling Leatherhead he would be back, just in case the gator woke up. He wanted to return before the gator woke up. He lay the letter on the counter where the gator would see it. He walked briskly out the door, bo staff in hand.

  


... ... ...

  


Leatherhead groaned as he awoke. He wasn’t as sore as before, but he still felt the extent of his injuries. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to wake completely. He couldn’t help but think over the events of the previous night.

 

He thought of his note, no way in hell Donnie found it and put the clues together so fast. He had wanted someone to see his dulling corpse, but after he had passed. Then again, it was Donnie.

 

“Leatherhead?” He heard the turtle whisper from behind him. A small knock on the concrete wall confirmed his presence.

 

Leatherhead didn’t move. He wasn't mad at the turtle as he had been. He just couldn’t make his body move out from under the warm embrace of his heat blanket.

 

“Leatherhead... you awake? I... I made you lunch if you want it.” Donnie suddenly felt silly, had he actually made lunch for him? Leatherhead wasn’t a child. He didn’t need the turtle’s help.

 

Leatherhead shifted, bringing himself to face the turtle. He hadn’t left, he stayed and made soup. Leatherhead pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Did you make lunch?” He asked with a smile. Donnie nodded awkwardly. “How are you feeling?” He asked, and Leatherhead nodded. “Fine, thanks.” He tried hard to keep the venom out of his voice.

 

“Good,” Donnie heard the bitter tone of the gator’s voice, “glad you're feeling okay. Here.” Donnie set the tray in his friend's lap. A large, hot bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup; a (possibly burnt) grilled cheese sandwich; and a glass of sweet tea (sugar makes it useful for blood loss, AND it's Leatherhead’s favorite).

 

Leatherhead thanked him and picked up half of the sandwich. He opened his mouth only to hesitate. He put the sandwich back on the tray. “Did you use the cheese that was in the fridge?” Donnie laughed and shook his head. “No, it was moldy, so was the ham in there.” Leatherhead stopped him. “I was unaware of ham?” Donnie couldn’t hold back the laughter as he doubled over. “How long has it been in there?” Donnie asked, and Leatherhead shrugged. “Over two months... the last time I had ham at all was at your house for Christmas.”

 

Leatherhead chuckled, he was happy for the distraction. But it was only that, a distraction. The turtle would leave, and his stomach would fall once more, and his chest would ache. He would feel the weighing depression all over again.

 

He was happy for the distraction.

 

Donnie made small talk, but Leatherhead didn’t say much else. Donnie noticed he wasn’t eating. He drank some of the sweet tea, but not enough to help.

 

Leatherhead soon thanked Donnie again for the meal and began to move. Donnie took the tray off his lap and walked out of the room to the kitchen before the gator could protest. Leatherhead didn’t want the turtle to wait on him. He wanted to simply be alone.

 

“Why did you do it?” Donnie’s voice was coated in seriousness as black as coal. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Donatello.” Leatherhead pushed against him, and he was firm. “You need to. If you need help, I am here for you.” Donnie pushed, and Leatherhead shook his head. “I don’t want your help, Donatello. I just...” Leatherhead didn’t want to involve the turtle.

 

He had already decided he was going to try again once the turtle left.

 

“Please, something is bothering you to the point you would attempt to end your life...” The words shook Donnie’s core. “I don’t want your help, Don, leave it be,” Leatherhead growled, if he couldn't put Donnie off by being nice he would get threatening. “Fine, we won’t talk about it, but I’m not leaving. Someone should care for you while you heal.” Donnie said firmly, and Leatherhead growled. “I appreciate the thought, Donatello, but I don’t need your help.” Leatherhead rolled his eyes when Donnie crossed his arms.

 

“Why are you acting so stubborn?” He asked, and Leatherhead growled, unable to find the reason why the turtle won’t leave. “I’m not, but I don't need your pity. Goodbye, Donatello.” Leatherhead was getting fed up with the turtle. He would leave, go into another room or show the turtle out, but he didn’t want to leave the golden embrace of the heat blanket.

 

“It’s not pity. I care about you.” Donnie heard himself say, he knew he liked the gator a lot, but he had never said it out loud. “I... I don’t need taken care of.” Leatherhead said, but Donnie saw the hesitation in the gator’s voice. “Damn, Leatherhead, shut up and let me give two shits about your well being.” Donnie snapped at him, and he had no comment. “I care, I know you seem to be lost, and I want to help and -ugh- you are so stubborn....” Donnie was cut off by the weight of Leatherhead’s lips on his. When Leatherhead pulled away, Donnie looked up him with impossibly wide eyes.

 

“-the hell?” Donnie stuttered. Leatherhead smiled. “You were rambling.” came his smartass reply. “I...I...you... I hate you... you... -ugh-.” Leatherhead chuckled when Donnie hung his head. “I’m glad you find humor in my struggling,” Donnie mumbled, and Leatherhead nodded. “A little.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “Did you kiss me?” Donnie asked something suspicious filled his eyes. “I may have,” He smirked. Leatherhead figured he had nothing else to live for. He might as well be bold.

 

Leatherhead smiled at the pink blush that covered the turtle’s face. “I’ll do it again if you say another word.” Leatherhead threatened with a smile and Donnie looked away. “Another word...” he mumbled, and Leatherhead smiled. He grabbed the turtle’s shoulders and pulled him into his lab; he winced when the turtle skid across bandaged limbs. “I’m sorry...” Donnie mumbled frantically as he tried to get up. Leatherhead just laughed, he didn’t let go of Donnie. He instead spread his legs under the blanket, Donnie fell against the bed, sitting between the limbs.

 

“Easy fix,” Leatherhead smirked, and Donnie blushed madly.

 

Leatherhead kissed him, slowly at first, but it was quick to turn heated. Donnie pulled away.  “Why are you doing this to me?” Donnie asked, and Leatherhead asked him what he was talking about. “This, you scare the hell out of me, then make me feel awful for caring about you, then like the most wanted person in the world. Please make up your mind.” Leatherhead smiled and shook his head.

 

“I don’t have to.” Leatherhead leaned to kiss Donnie again, but his phone rang in the other room. “Shit, it is probably Leo, I was supposed to be back hours ago,” Donnie mumbled, and Leatherhead let him go.

 

“I don’t wanna.” Donnie said, and Leatherhead nodded, “Go, and hurry back.” He said, and Donnie nodded as he walked quickly from the room.

 

Leatherhead saw the crimson stained silver that had almost taken his life. He smiled. Maybe he would wait a while and see who things turned out before he ended it all...


End file.
